


A Cauldron Full of Sun

by MagdaTheMagpie



Series: Hermione's Hideaway [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 21:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15179426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagdaTheMagpie/pseuds/MagdaTheMagpie
Summary: Truer words were never spoken when Hermione told Neville he was brilliantly bad at potions.





	A Cauldron Full of Sun

 

Neville hated when they worked on solo assignments, even more so when it was potions. Without a partner to guide him through the whole thing, he was… Well, he hated to admit that Snape was right, but he really was clueless about the whole process, and somehow, his cauldron always melted, except on the rare occasions when it exploded instead. Neville glanced at Seamus sitting in front of him, but he didn't look half as jittery about setting his cauldron off like a firework. Maybe because he actually enjoyed explosions in general, even if they detonated right in his face.

Sighing, Neville checked the next step again and threw in one pinch of crushed pixie wing to his potion, stirred clockwise twice, anticlockwise thrice, then watched in horror as it turned a brilliant shade of gold. So brilliant, in fact, that he had to look away.

“Neville,” Hermione hissed next to him. “What did you do?”

“I don't know. Can you help me before it… does something I don't want it to?”

Hermione’s eyes softened as they often did when she helped. He felt bad for asking, especially with Snape prowling around somewhere, but his potion should be a deep red and he was very afraid of what might happen if he didn't correct it soon. Hermione scooted over, her wild hair tickling his nostrils when she leaned over to stare into his potion. Her eyes were wide with disbelief when she looked back at him.

“I don't have a clue,” she announced. “You're brilliantly bad at potions, you know? It's kind of amazing.”

The corners of her lips quirked, and she started giggling. Her laugh had always been infectious so he laughed along despite knowing nothing was going right with his potion. Hell, even with his life.

“And what, pray tell, do you find so… _amusing_?”

Snape said the word as if it tasted particularly foul.Neville’s laugh died on his lips and his heart stopped beating out of fear for a moment. The Potions Master glanced into his cauldron and a nasty smile split his face.

“I do believe it is time to test your potions... On yourselves,” he said, more of a boggart than the real thing could ever be.

“But sir,” Hermione intervened.

She was harshly cut off by the “Professor”, taken points from and assigned a detention with Filch that very night. Just for those two words, for trying to protect him. Neville squeezed her hand under the desk, silently begging her to stop before she was punished further. He wasn't worth it. The warmth of her hand gave him just enough strength to take his wooden ladle without shaking too obviously and fill it with his concoction, very aware that every eye in the classroom was on him: the Gryffindors shaking with righteous anger, the Slytherins snickering at his plight.

Neville brought the ladle to his lips and sipped his potion. It had none of the pepper-up effects he should have expected had he brewed it correctly, nor did it have its slightly spicy taste. However, it did fill him with warmth, like a soft blanket in front or a crackling fire, like the times her mother looked at him and _saw_ him, just long enough to give him a candy wrapper and fill his heart with love and longing. That warmth was right at his fingertips, a tiny sun cradled in his hand. He brought it up to his face to look at this new wonder and found a hand, Hermione's hand, blinding him with its perfection, so much so he had to close his eyes and yet, he could still feel the warmth and love of his friend radiating all around him. She was all he ever wanted: caring but strong, smart but not condescending, funny but never at someone's expense. It was so obvious. Too obvious maybe, like the sun hanging in the sky. You never look at it, yet know it's there, vital and beautiful, and like the sun, you dance around it all year long, never too far away, caught in its orbit. Neville realized he had been ever since she had helped him find Trevor on that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Always there for him with her warm smile and soft eyes.

“You're my sun,” he whispered into her hand and kissed it.

He opened his eyes when he heard her squeak and try to snatch her hand away. There were a lot of catcalls from one half of the classroom and snickers from the other. Snape was not amused, probably disappointed he had not keeled over dead. Neville felt like rolling his eyes, but his attention was caught by Hermione's bright red cheeks and wide eyes. Whatever the potion had done had worn off, but the evidence of what he had discovered remained. His eyes were open and his heart ready to accept what it had known for years: he loved Hermione and he would show her everyday from this day on until she found him worthy. Until she, too, saw the sun.


End file.
